


Campe Annum

by saintsaint



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, fake married, people like to make david canadian but i got caught on "haha but what if it was gwen?", unlikely to be continued but WAS gonna be slow burn mutual pining. alas!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:13:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26900440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintsaint/pseuds/saintsaint
Summary: David knows exactly one thing about how people get green cards. "Because Gwen's my fiancée," he says.Gwen and David have less than a year to fix up Camp Campbell like new, convince the U.S. government that they're totally for real in love, and get their copious amounts of shit together. What could go wrong?
Relationships: David/Gwen (Camp Camp)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 56





	Campe Annum

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this like 6 months and some 85k words ago, but i reread it today and it still made me smile so i figured i'd share :) hope u enjoy!

David is just leading the campers out into a beautiful new day when an understated car with tinted windows and unlit police lights rolls to a stop before the Camp Campbell flagpole.

David has seen one of these cars arrive probably a dozen times this summer, though this visit isn’t quite on the schedule they’ve been adhering to for the past few weeks. Still, the sight of it has him automatically leaning back into the Mess Hall and calling, “Mr. Campbell, Agents Miller and Miller are here to see you again!”

Mr. Campbell actually perks up at that — oh, it’s so good to see him  _ excited  _ about his court-mandated government check-ins — and promptly thrusts his dirty mop into Gwen’s already-full arms with an unpleasantly wet-sounding  _ splap _ . She nearly drops her stack of plates and glares after him as he eagerly strides over, the kids parting around him like water. “Perfect timing, gentlemen! A few days early, but I’m always happy to sacrifice some of my precious, precious time here at Camp Campbell to discuss my sentence with you fine agents. Preferably somewhere with air conditioning — could we do this at Muffin Tops?”

“Actually,” says a growling, unfamiliar voice, “we’re not here for  _ you _ , Campbell.”

The woman who steps out of the passenger side is petite, her black hair tightly bound and suit dark and professional. With one hand she slams the car door; with the other she pulls off her sleek sunglasses, revealing sharp eyes that size David up and immediately dismiss him. Something in his gut tells him he should be grateful for it.

“I’m Agent Bond, and this is Agent James,” she announces. The driver, a stocky woman with short blond hair, nods but doesn’t take her own sunglasses off. Somehow, even as she takes out a tiny tablet and tinier stylus to start note-taking, she radiates absolute menace. “We’re from the Department of Immigration and Customs Enforcement.”

“Nikki, attack! Max,  _ run _ !” Neil shrieks, and David’s confusion is subsumed by  _ horror  _ as Nikki bounds past him on all fours and launches herself at the agents, teeth bared.

“Wait! No biting!” he shouts, and moves to grab her only to be stopped by the wrapping of a pair of noodly arms around his legs. “Neil?!” he yelps in disbelief as the boy tackles him with surprising viciousness, sending him crashing to the ground. That was uncharacteristically excellent form — David can’t help the flare of pride, even as he scrambles to dodge a kick from Nurf.

“Sorry,” Nurf says, “can’t blame a kid for kicking someone when they’re down.”

David can hear the rattle of dice being prepared in a magic missile. “Release Nikki at once, you fiends! You have no jurisdiction in this kingdom!”

“Actually,” replies Agent Bond as Agent James — who in the space of two breaths somehow reached her partner’s side and snagged Nikki by the collar,  _ wow _ she’s fast — gently sets his camper back on her feet, “you’ll find we have every right to be here.”

_ Well shucks _ , David thinks as he gets his feet back under him; Neil pants heavily on the ground, apparently spent.  _ And this was shaping up to be such a nice day _ .

“Guys, relax,” Max drawls. The rest of David’s campers part for the boy in an uncanny echo of their behavior with Mr. Campbell. “ _ I _ was born in this country, so they can’t be here for me. Legally, they can’t touch me.”

“You’ll never take him alive!” Space Kid cheerfully pipes up, and David can’t stop the automatic wave of anxiety that the agents might attempt the  _ alternative _ . He knows his country isn’t the best, but certainly they wouldn’t harm a  _ child _ … or at least not one of  _ his _ . Right?

“Touch him and we’ll make sure you  _ disappear _ ,” Harrison says.

“You don’t want to know what I can do to you with all the chemicals in  _ mein  _ oil paints,” Dolph adds.

“Kids, I’m touched by your loyalty to one another, but please don’t threaten the government agents,” David requests — although, to be absolutely honest, he feels a surge of protectiveness himself that has his shoulders tightening. After this summer, he’s willing to go above and beyond for these kids ( _especially_ that one).

“Neil, I had the offensive,” Nikki complains, trotting over to poke him where he lays. David checks her over carefully, but the agents don’t seem to have harmed her at all in their defense. Neil wheezes something about a “tactical error.”

“Hi Aunt Moira, Aunt P,” Ered says.

“Hey, kiddo,” Agent Bond says, her tone like stone, although her eyes sparkle with genuine warmth. At her side, Agent James gives Ered a nod. “We haven’t seen you in a while. You’re growing up fast.”

“Mm,” Ered says with a casual coolness so similar to the agent’s that David suspects these two actually know each other very well. “So, like, what are you guys even doing here?”

Agent Bond straightens up even further, bringing her nearly to her partner’s shoulder. “Of course — again, we’re with Immigration and Customs, but we’re not here for Cameron Campbell… today, anyway. And we aren’t here for a child, either.” Wordlessly, Agent James passes her tablet to Agent Bond, who purses her lips as she reads. “We’re actually looking for —”

“Alright, you little shits, we  _ seriously  _ need to have another talk about clearing your own fucking plates,” Gwen calls over the campers’ heads; they part for a third time to let her through. “ _ And  _ doing  _ your share _ of the  _ work _ . That goes for you, too, Mr. Ca—“

Gwen stutters to a halt. Her eyes dart between the agents, Mr. Campbell, the way the kids are all staring at her, and David. She goes very, very still.

Abruptly, something in David’s gut drops away. His heart beats heavily, almost painfully, in his chest. His smile starts to slip — though his focus is so utterly on Gwen he barely notices.

“Ms. Gwen Goodluck?” asks Agent Bond, looking David’s co-counselor over. The agent’s eyes are sharp once more. “Of Alberta, Canada?”

Even though she’s stood in that very spot probably hundreds of times over their summers working together, he’s used to seeing Gwen from his position right beside her. It feels strange to look at her from the outside: she’s framed perfectly in the Mess Hall doorway, seeming unusually small, her normally warm skin bloodless. Her wide eyes show white all around.

“Haha, um,” Gwen says in a high, pinched voice. “Hi! So, um, I’m actually doing. A, a work-study here. Emphasis on the study,  _ not _ the work, hahaha. Um.”

Agent Bond raises an eyebrow. “A work-study. At a children’s summer camp. For your most recent degree in…” she checks the tablet. “...meteorology?”

Gwen laughs nervously. “Um! ...yes?” Agent Bond hands the tablet off to her silent partner, who pockets it with unnerving finality.

“Your school has no record of your submitting any of the forms necessary for a legal work-study assignment,” Agent Bond says mildly.

“Well, you know how community college registrars can be, haha,” Gwen continues in that high voice, doing something with her face that could only charitably be called ‘smiling.’ “Always losing the most important paperwork. I, I’m sure this is just a simple misunderstanding.”

“In fact,” Agent Bond continues, undeterred, “besides never registering this with your school, you also never submitted any of the paperwork required by the U.S. government when a student visa holder wishes to take on any kind of a job inside  _ or  _ outside of a work-study assignment.”

“W-w-well, this is practically a volunteer position, with how little we’re paid! Haha, bosses, am I right,” Gwen squeaks.

“But you  _ are  _ paid,” says the agent.

“As little as I can get away with, yes,” Mr. Campbell interjects, with the distinct air of someone finally getting to see how things look from the outside, and the distinct interest in seeing how things play out.

Gwen makes a strangled sort of sound. Agent Bond nods thoughtfully. “Ms. Goodluck. Are you aware that working in the United States without a proper work visa is a federal crime?”

For David, this conversation seems to be happening simultaneously very quickly and extremely slowly.

David’s known Gwen is Canadian since their first year, when she let it slip by accident and then threatened to kill him if he ever told anyone. David knows her feelings about the place are so mixed that when she was accepted to a relatively low-caliber school in Sleepy Peak, she immediately hopped the border and never looked back. He knows that she’s trained out any trace of an accent and that she never talks about growing up there; he knows that she’s here on a student visa, which is part of the reason that even after her first graduation she keeps working on degree after degree after degree.

He did not know that she couldn’t legally work at Camp Campbell with her present visa.

Gwen clutches the dirty mop in between tight fists, looking like she’d very much like to be anywhere else, and doesn't say anything more. David feels his breakfast curdle in his stomach.

“Wait a minute,” Max sputters. “Wait, wait, wait. Are you actually telling me that  _ Gwen  _ is Canadian? The megabitch who  _ never  _ says sorry and hates the outdoors?  _ That _ Gwen?”

“Yeah, I thought Canadians were supposed to be more…” Nikki trails off; all the campers glance very obviously at David, who barely notices. “ … you know,” she finishes.

“Is your last name actually Goodluck? Because that honestly seems like it’s just tempting fate,” Harrison adds.

“Are you gonna take away Gwen?” Space Kid asks.

David suddenly finds his voice. “N-now now, kids, I’m sure these nice agents aren’t going to do anything that extreme.  _ Especially  _ not in this, the last week of camp, when we need Gwen most!” He feels way sweatier than the cool morning dictates; a drop slides down his jaw. “Why, that would be  _ totally outrageous _ , and also probably traumatizing! For  _ everyone _ !”

The agents trade looks. Then, somehow faster than the rest of the world, the stocky form of Agent James is past him, past the campers, past Mr. Campbell. She claps a heavy hand on Gwen’s shoulder and, in a quiet voice, says, “It’s best if you come along quietly, Ms. Goodluck.”

Without warning, gravity goes funny. David’s feet are stuck heavily to the floor, like they’re made of cement blocks, while the rest of him feels as steady as a helium balloon in a hurricane.

This  _ can’t _ be happening.

David tries to imagine the rest of his day. The agents take Gwen, leaving him in charge of the kids alone (except for Mr. Campbell and the Quartermaster… so, basically alone). Half of his campers start crying because their second favorite counselor has been taken away by the feds, never to return, while the rest start discussing her crimes and how they intend to break laws themselves just like her. They ramp it up throughout the week, just as David is trying to caringly close out the summer and clean up Camp Campbell for the season — alone, of course, since Gwen will be rotting in jail. The kids leave for the year with yet  _ another  _ disastrous story to tell their parents, as well as more of an inclination to disregard authority. Max takes up jaywalking and Nurf returns to even more violent bullying, leading to their arrest and eventual breakout from prison; this is then featured on a true crime podcast that delves deep into the story and finds the fault lies with David’s failure as a role model. No one sends their kids to camp next year and David has to sell Camp Campbell off for good to a parking lot company that paves over the whole forest and then David has to move back home and take care of his cousins for the rest of his life because no one will hire such a bad counselor and coworker and criminal enabler.

The future looms before him, promising that he will fail, just like everyone knew he would. David's heart pounds in his throat; blood rushes through him, but somehow his hands are iced over and totally numb.

He opens his mouth, no idea what to do, and over the agent’s shoulder Gwen’s eyes snap to his.

They’ve worked together for years, a united front against rowdy, sensitive kids who often outnumber them five-to-one. In that time, their ability to communicate has gone from requiring hours spent painstakingly going over simple problems to be sure they understood each other, to seamlessly stepping in mid-word before the other even realizes they need help. He’s also absorbed a lot of knowledge about her as a person: she works harder than anyone he knows, she’s always looking to the future, she chases after her dreams with dogged determination. Gwen is someone amazing, and he desperately doesn’t want to imagine a future without her in it.

David doesn’t need any of that context to understand the plea in her wide eyes right now.

_ Help _ .

“Unhand her,” someone says, and David realizes that it's him, and even without his conscious permission he’s still speaking. “You aren’t taking Gwen.”

Agent James looks over her shoulder at him. It takes him a moment to recognize the figure in her sunglasses’ mirrored lenses, because while he  _ feels _ like he’s about to shake apart into a million pieces, his reflection looks steady and calm.

“Excuse me,” Agent Bond says from behind him, low and dangerous. “Why not?”

David knows exactly one thing about how people get green cards.

“Because she’s my fiancée,” he says.

For a moment, not even the trees rustle.

Then chaos erupts. “WHAT?!” shout several of the campers; Ered whistles, impressed. Dolph faints, landing on top of a still-recovering Neil, while Nurf shouts, “THIS IS NOT A REVELATION I WAS EMOTIONALLY PREPARED FOR,” and sinks a fist into Harrison’s gut. Mr. Campbell lets out a thoughtful “huh.”

“YOU GUYS,” Preston announces over the commotion, “I JUST HAD  _ THE  _ BEST IDEA FOR A ROMANTIC COMEDY.”

Agent James loosens her hold on Gwen and David finds himself stepping between them, his eyes on his co-counselor. She stares like she’s just watched lightning strike him.

“ _ What _ ,” she mouths, eyes darting between David’s, and David  _ prays  _ that she understands him because he’s not sure he understands himself.

He steps into her space and wraps an arm around her, his hand settling firmly on her waist and pulling her close, closer than he’s ever dared — their sides touch, bodies pressed together from thigh to shoulders. Their jaws bump. He hopes desperately they look like a real couple.

Agent James steps back, looking to her partner; Agent Bond doesn’t move, though her eyebrows twitch in clear annoyance. “Ms. Goodluck, is this true?” she asks, stone-voiced.

“Er,” says Gwen, and panic shoots through David — if she doesn’t go along with this, can the agents arrest him for lying? Then Gwen will  _ still _ be sent away and he’ll also go to jail for twenty years and then he’ll never get another job and he’ll have to go home and take care of his cousins — but Gwen looks at him, just a quick lateral glance, before resting her hand on David’s lower back — David’s racing heart skips a beat — and she says convincingly, brightly, “Yes. Yes, David and I are engaged. To be married,” she adds.

Neil starts to push himself off the ground, but Nurf socks him in the jaw with a grunt and he goes down. “Congratulations!” Space Kid cheers.

Agent James is not amused. “You’re not wearing rings,” she notes.

David feels Gwen freeze in his arms and hurriedly says, “We didn’t want the kids to know! Counselors’ personal lives shouldn’t be the business of the minors they care for. It’s not camp-appropriate.” It occurs to him that neither is lying to government agents.  _ Oh god _ , he thinks. “It’s, um, it’s in the employee handbook.”

“That does  _ sound  _ right,” Mr. Campbell admits, watching them with interest.

“Besides,” Gwen adds, a  _ little  _ manically, “we  _ are _ millenials. Who needs a separate ring just for the engagement when the important one is for the wedding, haha? Right?”

“Mhmm,” says Agent Bond. “So when  _ is  _ the wedding?”

“Rrrrright after camp!” Gwen says, smiling hugely in a way that reminds David of her behavior with her ex, Graggle, and oh no is he contributing enough to this thing, should he be talking more??

“As soon as possible!  _ At _ the camp, even!” he says, and Gwen pinches his back but he finds he can’t quite stop. “Haha, we just don’t want to wait any more than we have to! Neither of us want a big ceremony and we  _ both _ just  _ love  _ Camp Campbell!” Perfect segue: David  _ knows  _ how to talk about Camp Campbell, so despite Gwen’s continued, sharpening pinches, he puts on a broad smile and forges ahead. “I went here as a kid and just loved it, and it’s been so wonderful to get the chance to work here as an adult! But it has…” he mentally apologizes to Mr. Campbell — “... _ declined _ a little bit over the years, so it’s my dream to patch it up and bring it back to its former glory!”

“Which!” Gwen interjects, “I am  _ so  _ supportive of! Which — which is why  _ both  _ of our names are on the deed! Because we’re investing together and supporting each other's dreams, like a real couple! ...Obviously, because we  _ are  _ real,” she says, and lays her other hand on David’s chest, leaning  _ even closer  _ to him. He rarely notices the scant inch he has on her, but like this he suddenly realizes that if she were just a touch closer, her nose would fit just under his own.

“I think I’m gonna hurl,” Max says. David abruptly realizes every eye is on them and he’s  _ lying to them _ , not just to the government agents but to Mr. Campbell and his campers and is this even remotely believable? His heart feels like it’s going to pound right out of his chest and he’s  _ definitely  _ sweating  _ a lot _ , his shirt damp just below Gwen’s hand, and he’s so incredibly anxious he thinks  _ he _ might actually hurl, too.

The agents exchange looks with each other. David’s not sure how they’re communicating with Agent James still wearing her sunglasses, but eventually Agent Bond sighs and crosses her arms. “Alright. Obviously we need to look into this. We’ll start with interviews — Campbell, you’re first. May we use your Mess Hall for our investigation?” This she directs at David and Gwen.

“Of course!” they squeak in unison.

“Hey, this could be fun! I’m usually the criminal,” Mr. Campbell says enthusiastically, following the agents indoors. “I love getting to be the informant for a crime instead!”

The doors to the Mess Hall slam shut behind him.

“My perception checks usually pick up on this kind of thing,” Nerris comments. “David, Gwen, is this for real?”

“Yep,” Gwen barks, and forcefully turns David towards their cabin. “Totally. You kids play nice for a bit, me and my —“ she barely pauses “—  _ fiancé _ need to go discuss some things real fast, okay?”

As Gwen propels him forward, he hears Nurf saying, “Woah, I thought those two actually  _ liked  _ each other. Why would they ruin that by getting married?”

The rest of the kids’ voices fade away as David and Gwen speed-walk in silence to the Counselors Cabin. Gwen shuts the door behind them, leaving him in the middle of the room as she goes around closing the windows. He stands there, feeling  _ incredibly  _ odd, until she draws the last curtain and finally says, “ _ David _ .”

“I,” he says. His feet have stopped feeling so heavy, at least, but now it seems like the barest gust of wind might send him flying. “I panicked.”

“ _ You _ panicked?” she demands in a fierce whisper. “David, you told them  _ we were engaged _ . That’s not the kinda shit you can just walk back!” She stalks towards him, eyes wild, eyebrows drawn, and suddenly David’s roiling anxiety transforms into  _ anger _ — at the situation, at the U.S. government, at Gwen.

“They were going to  _ arrest you _ ,” he hisses, clutching at his hair. “In front of the campers!”

She blinks at him, dumbfounded, and then  _ scowls _ . “Yeah,  _ in front of the campers _ . With all the wild shit they’ve seen this summer, who gives a fuck?”

“ _ I  _ do,” he snaps, “and so should  _ you _ . But I guess you weren’t thinking about that when you started working here  _ illegally _ . Did you really think you wouldn’t get caught?”

“I didn’t have _a choice_ ,” she retorts, balling her hands into fists. “Nowhere else was hiring and if I asked my parents for money they’d make me go _back_. I had to try!”

“So you thought you could get away with  _ breaking the law _ ? Gwen, people go to jail for this kind of thing! Clearly, since they sent  _ federal agents after you _ ,” he says, running a frantic hand through his hair, because  _ now he’s wrapped up in this too _ . “With all those degrees I would have thought you’d at least be able to  _ think things through _ !”

Her eyes widen, hurt, and she hesitates. “I,” she says, blinking rapidly, and it’s like someone’s dumped a bucket of ice water on him; while this situation might be panic-inducing for him, it’s probably  _ so much worse  _ for the person who’s at risk of deportation and arrest.

“Oh,” he says, “wait, Gwen, I —“

“I  _ know  _ it was stupid,” she says, wrapping her arms around herself. He reaches a hand out but she pulls away, scrubbing at her eyes, and David’s heart  _ twists _ guiltily. “I know I shouldn’t have done this, and I know I should have told you.”

“I wish you had,” he blurts out, and winces when she sends him a watery-eyed glare. “But… you  _ had  _ a real job, at Camp Corp. Wouldn’t they have helped you?”

“Yeah, they were going to sponsor my work visa,” she admits. “But, like. Fuck Camp Corp, right?”

“Language,” he says automatically, which gets him a wet-sounding snort. He can’t help smiling a little at that, but Gwen stays turned away from him, rigid and miserable. “So you gave up on a job that would have fixed your visa problem just to come back here and help me run Camp Campbell?”

“Well, they also sucked,” she says wetly.

“Sure,” he agrees, mind racing. “But you still did it. Your name is still on the deed; you still helped me figure out all the ownership laws. It’s because of you that I can follow my dream.” He takes a deep breath, wondering if he should do this, but he supposes he’s been decided since the moment he told that agent to let her go. “So… why shouldn’t I help  _ you _ follow your dreams?”

If anything, she stiffens further. David wishes he could see her face. “...what?” she asks.

“Um,” he says, wiping a drop of sweat off his face; he’s just realized how  _ warm _ it is in here. “Well, you don’t want to go back to Canada, right? And you don’t want to get arrested? So, I... if I helped you get your green card, then you wouldn’t have to do either.”

Finally, she turns — besides her watery eyes and red nose she looks totally incredulous, but David thinks there are worse expressions she could be making.  _ Not a great response to a proposal, though _ , he thinks weakly, tugging uncertainly on his bandana.

“David,” she says slowly, “this isn’t just helping me out with some paperwork. They’re gonna ask us questions, and expect us to get married  _ for real _ .”

“Lying for Mr. Campbell was literally a part of this job description,” he says, “and, I mean, I  _ do  _ love weddings.”

“Okay, but it’s not just  _ a  _ wedding,” she says, crossing her arms, “it’d be  _ our  _ wedding. It’d be legally binding, at least til we figured something else out. They’d probably expect us to live together.”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’d be alright with a new roommate,” he says — as much as he loves his mom, it’d be nice to not _have_ to live with her in the off-season. He gestures around their cabin. “Besides, we know we can live together just fine, and since we already own the camp you technically wouldn’t have to worry about rent.”

Gwen huffs a weak laugh at that but looks away, fiddling with her shirt sleeve. She chews on her lip, clearly unconvinced.

David thinks again about that future without her. “Look,” he says hurriedly, “the important thing is that you don’t want to go, and I don’t want you to either. If this is what it takes for you to stay, then I’m willing to do it. The rest we can figure out together.” His mouth feels weirdly dry; he swallows nervously, unsure what Gwen’s thinking beneath her tight shoulders and refusal to make eye contact. “Um. If, if you’d. If you’d have me, I mean.”

She tightens up even more, and David’s heart sinks — but then she  _ groans _ , drawn-out like the worst, longest day at camp, and goes so limp she falls into the green and yellow armchair behind her. She puts a hand to her face in exasperation and gives him the same look she’s given him a hundred times before, like she’s just listened to one of his plans for a camp activity and  _ hates it _ but is going to go along with it anyway.

David starts to smile.

“This is incredibly stupid,” she says, “not to mention abso-fucking-lutely crazy.”

“Yeah,” David agrees.

“We’d basically be using each other so you could keep the camp and I could not get arrested or deported.”

David thinks of his relatives. “People get married for worse reasons.”

She grimaces, staring up at the ceiling. “If this works out, then it’s probably going to be really weird. For both of us,” she warns.

“I can handle weird,” he says, settling on the floor beside her. He feels both exhausted and wired and it’s making it hard to stop smiling.

“You can still back out. You don’t have to do this,” she says, but it’s half-hearted at best — she can tell David’s mind has been made up. Still, even with her choices so limited, he doesn’t want her to feel like he’s backed her into a corner.

“So can you; we could try to figure something else out,” he offers, meaning it. “There might be another way.”

She sighs. “Maybe, but  _ neither  _ of us have a degree in Immigration Politics,” she says. “So. I mean. If you’re really sure about this…”

She glances down at him, genuinely questioning. This moment feels so much like any of the hundreds they’ve had in this cabin over the years and at the same time like their ultimate conclusion.

He smiles back up at her from his spot on the floor. “I’m sure.”

Finally, she quirks a little smile. “Alright, David,” she says, extending a hand. David immediately gives her a  _ perfect  _ high five. “Let’s get married.”

*

Sundays at Camp Campbell are meant to be relatively relaxed. The counselors don’t plan any particular activities, leaving the kids to explore the property and their own interests to their hearts’ content. Usually this means the kids focus on their own camps rather than trying something new, but David has learned to live with that; as much fun as the rest of the week is, children need downtime and the chance to hone their older skills, too.

So he’s both startled and delighted when, after he and Gwen return from their discussion, all of their campers are clustered together waiting for them. Max is at the head, apparently elected spokesperson.

“Hey. So we all decided that instead of taking advantage of the  _ one day a week  _ where you aren’t hounding us to do boring shit we hate, we want to use our  _ precious, limited time  _ on this awful planet —“ here he grimaces mightily at his fellow campers; Nikki jabs him with an elbow, “— to try…  _ ugh… _ a new camp activity.” He scowls, looking furious.

“Why, Max! That’s such wonderful news!” David exclaims — there’s only so much time in the summer, and he has  _ dozens  _ of camp activities he’s had to put aside for lack of time. He immediately starts running through the list in his head. “We could do steam-powered engine making, or maybe exotic plant grafting, ooh! Or maybe medieval fingerloop braiding — now I know we’ve already done friendship bracelets and rope weaving and fiber arts, but fingerlooping is actually  _ quite  _ different —“

“All of those sound terrible,” Max interrupts.

“ _ Und  _ also, we’ve already decided what activity we want to do with you,” Dolph adds.

Oh, they’re even taking  _ initiative _ , this is so wonderful! David paws excitedly at Gwen’s arm, who sighs deeply. “Oh, kids, that’s great! I can’t guarantee Gwen and I will know much about it, but we’ll certainly do our best to help you out however we can!”

“Oh, we know you will,” says Max, with just enough of a smirk that David feels a sudden hint of trepidation. “Because the activity we’ve picked is Interrogation Camp.”

David’s smile drops off his face as Gwen starts, “Uh, no, I don’t fucking think —“ and Harrison snaps his fingers.

It goes pitch black. David has just enough time to yelp and grab Gwen’s arm before he’s shoved into a seat and a bright light is shined directly in his eyes, making him wince. “Uh,” he says.

It takes a moment for his vision to adjust. He and Gwen are seated side by side in uncomfortable folding chairs with a table before them that he thinks may have been borrowed from Science Camp. Across from them are a handful of watching, shadowed figures. To his left stands Ered, and on top of her shoulders Space Kid; their combined height is just enough that he can aim his flashlight right in their faces.

“Hi, Gwen! Hi, David! I’m supposed to be helping intimidate you!” he chirps easily.

Gwen groans.

“Oh, you think things are tough now,” comes Preston’s voice. He steps dramatically into the light; sunglasses shield his eyes from view, though they’re perhaps less frightening than intended for the fact that they are heart-shaped. “My partner and I are about to make things a whole lot  _ tougher _ .”

Someone grunts behind them, breath suddenly on their necks. David jerks in surprise — a glance over his shoulder reveals that Nurf’s wearing shades too, though his are regular black ones.

“I still don’t know that this is a very good use of our time,” Neil says from somewhere in the shadows.

David can’t help it. “Oh, Neil, are you feeling better? That was quite a tackle you tried on me this morning.”

“I’ll have you know that no plan survives first contact with the enemy,” he sniffs. “But also, I’m pretty sure I seriously overtaxed my muscles.”

“Kids,” Gwen says threateningly.

“Listen,” says Max, as he seemingly materializes from behind Preston. “We all  _ totally  _ believe that you two have been doing it on the regular enough to think you’re in love —“

“Eh, more like 60-40,” Nerris calls from somewhere to their right.

“ _ — but _ , we thought it might be useful for  _ us kids  _ to learn about interrogation, since those agents are going to be asking  _ us  _ questions. So why not  _ practice  _ how it goes with you guys? We’ll ask some questions, you give us answers. Simple.”

“Max,” Gwen says warningly.

“Sure, sure, we know you can’t tell us anything about your  _ actual, real  _ relationship because of your employee handbook or whatever. So instead you can just  _ make it up _ . You know, come up with an air-tight story.” He raises an eyebrow. “Or is that a problem?”

David and Gwen glance at each other, silently discussing. He can tell she hates this (and it certainly makes him feel squirmily uncomfortable, too) but… 

Gwen capitulates with a gusty sigh, leaning back to cross her arms, and David turns to their campers with a grin. “Alright, ‘agents,’” he says. “Where would you like to start?”

Like that, he and Gwen devise a plausible history for their love story. They decide David fell first and kept it a secret through their first year; when she returned the next summer, she was surprised to find herself starting to fall for him too. They started casually dating at the end of that season (“casually” to account for the agents’ potential uncovering of a few of Gwen’s flings) and were serious (if long-distance) by the end of their third year working together. David was too nervous to actually propose, so instead Gwen proposed in early spring of this year. They mutually decided to allow each other some last-minute dalliances (Bonquisha, Graggle if they ask about him) to make sure they were sure about their choices, and now are looking forward to a  _ very  _ quiet ceremony at the camp where they met and fell in love, and where they plan to start their future together.

It’s not that different an experience than planning any camp activity with Gwen and it’s even sort of  _ fun _ . Their friendship and working knowledge of each other is so strong that it doesn’t take much to transform it into a romance. Plus Gwen’s  _ such _ a good writer: as she gets more invested she comes up with plot twists and clever details on the spot that David can almost imagine really happened. Her proposal story genuinely makes him tear up.

“David,” she says, amused and embarrassed as he sniffles into a tissue. “It’s just a story.”

He  _ knows _ . “P-p-proposing under my favorite kind of tree was just such a b-beautiful touch,” he sobs, and she pats his shoulder in resigned bemusement.

Kids pop in and out of their “interrogation room” (a cleverly erected tarp — Harrison really is getting good at his stage presentation) as the actual agents call them in to ask about Gwen and David’s relationship. Mr. Campbell shows up at one point and becomes heavily involved, giving tips to both sides of the interrogation table.

The entire thing nearly gets derailed after lunch when the kids ask about their families. At the idea of ever telling  _ any  _ of this to his mom, David has a full-blown panic attack and has to lock himself in the bathroom for twenty minutes. Gwen needs to watch an episode of trashy television to calm down, furiously tapping at her phone when it doesn't buffer fast enough to distract her from just the  _ concept _ of her parents.

Eventually they decide that neither of them has told their families because they wanted to avoid the merciless teasing, which is certainly true in David’s case — his mom has been making “sly” “hints” about him and Gwen since the first time he called her on the phone to gush about his co-counselor, and Gwen scowlingly admits that her dad has done the same thing. And, jeeze, it sure is warm under the tarp, huh? David has to step outside for a minute to cool down in the fresh air.

As he mops his burning face with his bandana, the agents open the doors to the Mess Hall, releasing Nikki to scramble out into the grass. “David Lockwood?” Agent Bond calls, and the warm air turns to ice around him.

Cold crawls over his feet, freezing his boots to the ground. Playing at interrogation with his beloved campers is one thing, but he has to do this perfectly, just like they’ve been practicing, or the farce will be up and they’ll take away Gwen. He can’t let her down.

Gwen emerges from beneath the tarp. “David?”

He fails to respond. Maybe he should ask Mr. Campbell for tips for when they throw him in prison.

Working at Camp Campbell together for so long has basically eliminated any sense of David’s personal bubble when it comes to Gwen. While he knows to respect hers, in turn  _ she _ knows that his is negligible, particularly when her crossing it often saves him from getting stabbed or falling down a cliff or any number of other common camp-related incidents.

So when Gwen leans in close, it doesn’t even occur to David to move out of the way. He just stands there — like an  _ idiot  _ — when Gwen presses a firm kiss to his cheek, just barely brushing the corner of his lips.

At once, the world heats up again — but before he can do  _ anything _ , she places a hand on his lower back and gently shoves him in the direction of the Mess Hall, murmuring, “Go get em, David.”

He stumbles forward, spell broken, and obediently crosses to the waiting agents, two distinctly different parts of his brain screaming.

The Mess Hall is as brightly lit as always, a slight breeze coming in through the open windows. The agents have him sit on one of the benches David has had meals at a hundred times before and take their seats across from him. Agent Bond goes over his basic details while Agent James quietly taps at her tablet, the text on the screen too small for him to read in her mirrored sunglasses.

“Well,” says Agent Bond, “Agents Miller and Miller speak highly of you. Your willingness and success in keeping Cameron Campbell on track for his community service is admirable and speaks to your honest nature.”

“Thanks,” he says, and then, to their point but without his conscious permission, “um. I am incredibly nervous.”

Agent Bond eyes her partner, but Agent James doesn’t look up. Her fingers have stilled on her virtual keyboard. Finally, Agent Bond asks, “Why is that?”

“I,” he says, and swallows hard.  _ What am I  _ doing? “I don’t want… Gwen — She… she’s so important to me. I don’t want to be the reason she —” He looks from one agent to the other, feeling naked and stupid; he’s messing this up,  _ he’s messing this up _ — “This morning, I — I tried to think what I would do if you took her, and. I  _ can’t _ — I don’t want to imagine that life. I don’t  _ want _ a life without her.”

The agents are quiet for a moment. David’s heart beats so loud he’s sure they can hear it from across the table. What is he doing? He  _ just _ practiced letting the interrogator lead the opening remarks. Mr. Campbell told him he should shut up and figure out their angle of attack so he could block it, not just vomit emotions all over them and hope they take pity.

Then Agent Bond passes her tablet to her partner, tapping the screen, and takes off her sunglasses. David’s startled to realize her eyes are large and dewy, with long lashes and laugh lines in the corners. She reminds him suddenly of his own mother, especially when she leans across the table to pin him with a stern eye.

“Mr. Lockwood,” she says softly. “Do you love her?”

He gulps, but Gwen has been at his side for four long summers, and ultimately it’s easy to be honest about his CBFL.

“I do,” he says, and can’t help that even though he means it platonically, a definite, undeniable blush is spreading across his face.

“Well!” says Agent James, warm.

“Well,” says Agent Bond, her eyes locked on the tablet rather than David. She looks up at her partner, whose smile has adorable dimples. “Well. Alright, then.”

“...alright?” David asks.

“Yes, alright,” replies Agent Bond, though she’s still looking at Agent James. She powers down the tablet and gets to her feet, gesturing for David to follow. “That’s fine. We’ve heard enough, we’ll just chat with Ms. Goodluck real quick and that will be all.”

“Really? You’re… not going to ask about how we fell in love, or what I know about her morning habits, or anything?” he asks, stumbling after her; she shakes her head as she opens the door for him. “O-oh. Well, um, thank you?”

“Mm. Ms. Goodluck?”

Gwen startles from her position right next to the entrance, looking guilty. “Y-yes?”

“We’re ready for you.”

David’s still baffled, wondering if this is normal or if he’s somehow just managed to destroy any chance they might have had, but at the bare anxiety on Gwen’s face he pulls himself enough together to — to —

Oh gee, should he kiss  _ her _ cheek? That’s a normal thing couples do, right? The idea makes his ears burn. Maybe he should kiss her hand instead? Actually he’s pretty sure that would be weirder, he’s not going to do that.

Gwen is passing him, looking pale, and at the last moment David manages to screw up enough courage to reach out and catch her hand. She glances at him; he thinks of morning facial exercises, the expression on Agent James’s face, and his and Gwen’s perfect high fives.

“Good luck,” he says, squeezing her hand.

She searches his face, then snorts. “Don’t wear it out,” she says, and disappears inside.

They’re in there for twenty minutes. Despite his best attempts to stay positive and focused on supervising the kids’ return to their personal camps, he winds up pacing nervous circles on the Activity Field until finally Ered complains that he’s harshing her vibes. He ends up letting Nikki chew on him just to keep himself distracted.

He’s just realized his mistake when she punctures skin and he frantically tries to extricate himself from her sharp little puppy teeth when the doors to the Mess Hall open, automatically jerking away his attention.

Gwen looks nervous and confused; he finds himself crossing to her without thought, dropping Nikki on the way. She meets him in the middle, taking his bitten hand with the automatic instinct she has for his wounds. As she wipes away a little blood, he looks her over, almost expecting her to be injured, too.

“Are you,” he starts, but Agent Bond clears her throat and the whole camp falls silent.

“Well. After today, I feel confident saying that this whole thing reeks of a poorly planned plot,” she says, and Gwen’s hand tightens in his as his breath stutters.

They’ve failed. He can just see the expression on his cousins’ faces now. Will his mom still say she’s proud of him when he has to call from a jail cell?

“However,” continues Agent Bond, “every person here vouches for the two of you — most of them also inexpertly threatened us.” She frowns, shakes her head. “Besides that, it’s clear that you two have planned for a future together, and you care about each other very much.”

She looks to Agent James, who has replaced her sunglasses and nods at her partner. Agent Bond seems to be resisting the urge to sigh. She continues, “So: in the opinion of these two agents, we decree that should you, Gwen Goodluck, and you, David Lockwood, be wed and work together towards the improvement of this property, the U.S. government will be willing to forgive your criminal status and issue you permanent residence.”

It takes David a moment to parse that. “Wait,” he says, turning to Gwen, whose lips are trembling. “Does that mean…?”

“You’re getting your green card, Ms. Goodluck,” Agent James says with a smile. “You two are getting married.”

Gwen makes a high noise and her knees give out; David catches her, alarmed, but when she turns to him he realizes that she’s  _ laughing _ . “Gwen?”

“I can stay,” she says, and then, “We’re getting  _ married _ .”

The look on her face is so relieved and disbelieving and fragile and, ultimately, _glad_ that David can’t help but laugh back, lifting her into a spinning hug.

“We’re getting married!”

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. inspiration for this fic comes from [THIS PIECE OF ART](https://ellohcee.tumblr.com/post/188061949843/gwenvidweek-day-2-hidden-talentssurprises-idk) and pretty much everything [forestwater](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forestwater/pseuds/Forestwater) has ever written. thumbs up!!!  
> 2\. ON THE NAMES: yes Goodluck is a real canadian last name; i figure it was gwen's mom's and Louie took it and became Lucky Louie. also thought it was funny w how unlucky gwen tends to be. i picked Lockwood bc it slant-rhymes and i liked the idea of them smashing their last names together and having to choose between Lockluck and Goodwood lol  
> 3\. i actually have a whole big outline for how these two would slowly fall in love for this story featuring disastrous relatives and holidays, discord writing groups, awkward interactions with cameron campbell, david getting checked by ice-hockey-playing gwen and [LOVING it](https://ellohcee.tumblr.com/post/188081137608/david-swooning-over-his-strong-girlfriend), tapping maple trees as the ultimate form of love language, and dirty kevin, but... i'm like, 100% not going to do it, so. if you had questions about it though you can find me on tumblr at [cartoonsaint](https://cartoonsaint.tumblr.com/) :)
> 
> i hope this story finds you well. til next time!


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